


An Introduction Would Have Been…Nice

by GhoulsnHalos (Morgawse)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Confused Dean Winchester, First Meetings, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Military Pilot Castiel (Supernatural), Military Science Fiction, Oblivious Dean Winchester, Swearing, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-19
Updated: 2020-09-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:01:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26536246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morgawse/pseuds/GhoulsnHalos
Summary: Dean Winchester's day is ruined when he gets a new boss in his role as an administrator in the Fleet Support Department. Some asshole ruins it further when they make him spill coffee over his shirt. Imagine how his heart sinks when he finds out that the boss and the asshole are one and the same — Lieutenant Commander Castiel Novak.Does Dean's day get any better when the two finally meet formally?
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 7
Kudos: 44





	An Introduction Would Have Been…Nice

**Author's Note:**

> This one-shot was written for the Writers of Destiel "The Day They First Met" Prompt Week - Friday Firsts
> 
> Zachariah, Jack, and Kevin make tiny guest appearances. They're of the 'blink and you'll miss it' type, so I didn't tag them as characters.
> 
> This has been through spelling, grammar, and sense checking. Some errors may have squeaked through the process. If they have, I apologize.

Dean slumped into his chair, almost slopping coffee across his desk. The perfect start to another wonderful day at the Defence Provisions Ministry of the Ahuran Galaxy Alliance. John Winchester would be turning in his grave. If he had one. His son, who he trained for glory in the Alliance's ground fighting forces, had refused to join up and ended up as a civilian administrator stuck behind a desk for 8 hours a day.

What joys would the first day of another month of the war between the Alliance and the Dumrazi Empire bring?

Dean took a slug of coffee. Ugh! He'd need another mug, or two before he was ready to face the day. Unfortunately for Dean, it was not to be. His terminal pinged three times in quick succession. The messages being sent in triplicate told him that they were important departmental communications from Colonel Adler. The kind that you got in serious shit for not reading as soon as they came through — whether you were on duty or not. Fuck it!

Dean slammed his hand down on the recognition pad. Sure enough, the team comms channel had a 'must-read' memo from the pompous dickbag of a departmental director.

Dean's day got worse. Posting rotation day was today. How could he forget that! Dean froze in horror as he read on. Adler had nominated him to be the 'buddy' for the new Services Team Leader. As if that wasn't bad enough, the guy was a 'flyboy'.

Between him and Charlie, they'd only just managed to make Lieutenant Commander Hyun bearable to work with. Now they'd have to start all over again with an arrogant pilot who thought he was above everybody else because he could fly fighters. Peachy. Just fucking peachy.

Another coffee was imperative. Hell, Dean might even sneak by Turner's office and see if he could wangle a little something to pep up the caffeine.

Dean sent a reply confirming he'd read the message and understood his duties before heading for the old archivist's office.

"Ready for the new boss today?" Dean spun around at the sound of Charlie's voice.

"As if!'

"So I see! Sneaking into the Turner’s office to see if he's got any whisky stashed in the third drawer of the second cabinet to the left. You know what'll happen if anyone catches you?"

Yeah, Dean knew. Yet another black mark in the book. Another chewing out closer to being dismissed from the Ministry. Another step closer to…well…he wasn't sure what. But given that it took an effort to screw things up so badly you were chucked out of an admin role in any of the Alliance's civil service ministries, the outlook wouldn't be rosy.

"It's a risk I'm willing to take, Charles. You coming with, or not?"

"Not! I'm going to be at my desk beavering away like the good little worker bee I am when the flygirl shows her face."

"Dream on! Since when have there been any female pilots they let off the front line? There are too few of them to waste not being advertisements for more starry-eyed young women to sign up. If you're gonna be stuck on a desk job — then why join up?"

Charlie shrugged. "You'll see when SHE arrives. Then I'm aiming straight for the kill…"

Dean sniggered, "Tell you what. I'll bet you three rounds at the Lightfold Bar that our new boss is male. I'll also bet you the same number of drinks that, if by some miracle it's a woman pilot, you can't get in her pants before her rotation is halfway through."

Charlie stuck out her hand, "See you in the bar - six drinks the poorer Dean-o!" Then she skipped off to her desk, bobbing her head to the tune she was whistling.

Rufus Turner wasn’t in his office. It was too early. Dean found what he wanted exactly where Charlie had said it would be. He sloshed a generous helping into his mug, placed the bottle back where he’d found it. Making sure no-one spotted him leaving the Archive Office, Dean hotfooted it the breakroom kitchenette.

Dean hummed to himself while he waited for the coffee machine to do its thing. He got so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t hear anyone enter the room.

“I wonder, is there enough in that for another cup?” came a gravelly voice from behind him.

Dean jumped, coffee pot in hand. A few drops sloshed out and over his hand.

“Yeah,” he snapped, shaking the sting out of his hand after he’d put the pot back on the hotplate.

“Great. Sorry if I made you jump. Didn’t realise you hadn’t heard me come in.”

“It’s ok. It happens.” To me. It always happens to me.

Dean picked up his almost overflowing mug. He turned around expecting to be able to make a hasty escape before the man tried to engage him in any more conversation.

“Shit! Fuck! Sonovabitch!” Hot coffee splashed over the front of Dean’s shirt as he collided with a body. Most likely belonging to deep voice. “Personal space, dude! Nobody ever tell you that hot liquids burn!”

“My apologies. Here, let me help you.”

Dean was so busy staring balefully at the ruined shirt that he was caught off guard again when a handful of paper towel was pressed to his chest.

“What did I say about personal space!” he snarled grabbing the paper out of the guy’s hand.

“Uh, yes. I…um…my apologies again…I’ll…err…maybe I’ll just grab my coffee and go. I…um…I am truly sorry. I’m on edge today myself. I’m not thinking straight.”

Dean could admit he was being an ass. He looked up at the stranger, with a weak smile. What he saw made him regret his attitude even further. The strong jaw with a smattering of five o’clock shadow even though it was only 8.30 in the morning. The black bedhead that the guy had obviously tried and failed to tame. The tired yet captivating sky-blue eyes that competed with the beetroot colour staining his cheeks. Chiran fleet officer’s uniform. Dean didn’t catch sight of the insignia that would have told him which branch the officer belonged to, only that he was in the fleet, not an auxiliary or supporting branch.

Dean failed in the manners department. He should have introduced himself to the officer. But he couldn’t because his usually wisecracking mouth wouldn’t open.

The officer skirted Dean without saying another word. He filled his mug and hightailed it out of the breakroom before Dean could pull himself together.

Dean’s disastrous start to the day didn’t improve when he got back to his desk. He’d already resigned himself to spending the day with a coffee-stained shirt. He hadn’t intended on training on campus after work, so he didn’t have a change of clothes in his locker. Sitting on the edge of his desk, with an intimidating scowl was Head of Chiran Fleet Support Records, Bobby Singer.

“Can you explain to me why I have Rufus jumping up and down yapping on about how some idjit has been into his office and disturbed his filing? More importantly why he’s cussing up a storm about his friend Johnny being missing.” Bobby leaned forward sniffing at Dean’s mug.

“Thought so! Balls. You got a change of shirt, boy?”

Against his better judgement, Dean feigned innocence. “No idea about Turner’s friend, nor his filing system. Why would I?”

Bobby narrowed his eyes at him.

“It’s bad enough I got to walk around all day because some frickin’ officer from the Chiran fleet doesn’t know any better than to creep up on a guy with a coffee-pot in his hand. Now I got you on my ass about some shit Rufus has dreamed up. We all know he’s got several…”

Bobby jabbed a stubby finger into Dean’s chest. “Save the act for some damn fool who’ll buy it. What’s got your panties in a bunch that you’re sneaking around making Irish first thing? It’s early even for you to be starting.”

Charlie poked her head up over her terminal. “New boss.”

Bobby nodded. “Ahhh, yup that would explain the idjit’s behaviour. By all accounts, there’s three new uniforms this time. Not caught a whiff of which three sections they were due to be assigned to, but now I know at least one. Hope they’ve got more about them than the last set of wet weekends.”

“Hey,” Charlie said indignantly, “we got Hyun trained up. He’s a delight to work with now.”

“My point exactly,” Bobby muttered. “About that spare shirt? Because if you ain’t got one, I’d keep as far away from Adler and your new boss as possible today…unless…”

Charlie shook her head, “Nope. No perfume or body spray. Against regulations. You know that, Mr Singer.”

“Better than smelling like last night’s dive bar.”

“Still a ‘no’ from me.”

“All Fleet Support hands to Lecture Hall 2. All Fleet Support hands to Lecture Hall 2. All Fleet…”

Dean threw back the remains of his coffee in two large mouthfuls. “Well, that’s us then. Come on. Let’s go see what numbskulls they’ve dumped on us this time.”

‘All hands’ meant everyone in the department who was on Defense Provisions Ministry campus. With most of the Fleet Support spread over 6 floors of their block getting out of the building was a lengthy process.

“We could take the stairs,” Jack suggested.

“Uh, no! Service elevator, if you please.” Charlie was halfway across the room before Dean, Jack and Kevin could catch up with her.

“Are we allowed?”

“Pshaw! Allowed? Of course not!”

Dean slung an arm around Kevin’s shoulder. “However, young metilern, taking this route instead of following everyone else like a dumb sheep shows initiative.”

Neither Kevin nor Jack looked convinced.

“Come with us or go wait with the flock. Makes no difference to me or Charlie.”

Predictably the two young administrators chose the path of least resistance. They joined the crush for the staff elevators while Dean & Charlie sprinted to their preferred, well-practiced route.

Taking the service elevator meant that they could stroll across the quad to the training building.

“Gods of Brenarth, there’s another one!” Charlie exclaimed pointing to a uniformed officer using a walking stick about to enter the training block. “Kind of brings it all home doesn’t it? For the first time since our grandparents’ generation, there’s a war. People’s lives changed in a moment for the so-called glory of the Ahuran Galaxy Alliance.”

“It’s bullshit,” Dean muttered sotto voce. The hostilities and increasing number of wounded service-people on campus were making it increasingly impossible for him to maintain the facade. Dean was lying to himself about working for a peacekeeping defense fleet. He swallowed down the bile at the guilt for not following in his father’s footsteps. He ignored the gnawing sensation that he wasn’t living up to his potential in his job. He was a coward.

“Bet he gets some sympathy hooks-up out of the tale behind that walking stick.” It was a stupid joke, but it broke the tension.

Charlie and Dean continued across the quad and into the lecture hall. They found their usual spot off to the left as close to the back as they dared sit. Without giving him a chance to get settled, Charlie elbowed Dean in the ribs, pointing to the stage with her other hand.

What was it with people touching him today?

On stage next to the Departmental Director, Zachariah Adler, were two women and one man all dressed in Fleet dress uniforms, two Chiran, one Picherun.

“See told you,” Charlie crowed. “Two girls. Two! Oh boy, my chances of getting those drinks skyrocketed, Winchester. Hope you saved some of your measly pay credits.”

Dean eyed the women. From what he could make out, his money was safe from one of them. She had a silver and gold entwined band closely fitted around her left wrist denoting that she was mated according to the Tyrean tradition. The other was not a pilot. In her glee that there were two women on stage, Charlie hadn’t looked at the colour of their uniforms. The unmated one wouldn’t be their new section head. She would be running the Cross-Fleet Disputes Section. Dean had spotted that she was wearing a Picherun Fleet uniform, which would stack the odds against her heading up a Chiran Fleet section. Also, the turquoise shirt told Dean she was not a pilot. She was a lawyer.

Dean’s stomach dropped to his feet. The man. Full Chiran fighter pilot dress. He knew that when the monitor provided a close up of the man’s features, they would show the man he’d met in the kitchen earlier. Dean began praying to every deity worshipped by the different factions of the Alliance that married Tyrean was their new boss. Surely, no god or goddess would hold it against a man so desperately in need of their assistance that he’d never bothered to pray to them since he was a small child who knew no better?

“Finally, fresh from the frontlines of our defense against the Dumrazi, the new Section Head for Chiran Fleet Spares and Maintenance Support — Lt Commander Castiel Novak.”

Dean groaned. This was going to be a godawful 18months — if he lasted that long.

“I’m right in assuming that mister tall and brooding with a stick-up his ass was the asshat who covered you in coffee.”

“Technically, I covered myself. But, yes, he’s the dude without a clue on personal space.”

“Hmm,” Charlie grabbed her chin and pursed her lips. “Doesn’t look like that to me. Looks like he’d keep everybody at arm’s length - at a minimum. Don’t tell me…Adler made you his buddy, didn’t he?”

“Yes,” Dean sighed.

“Oooh, now I don’t feel so cheated about not winning those drinks off you. You’ll be needing plenty of credits to drown your sorrows dealing with him.”

Dean didn’t reply. Something didn’t stack up. This Lt Commander Novak had been apologetic, stumbling over his words when he realised his mistake. Fighter pilots were arrogant douchebags. Dean had never met or heard of, one who didn’t think they were the gods answer to everything.

Charlie patted Dean on the back when they stood up. “I feel for you, Dean. I really do. Are suddenly coming over all nauseated? Sweating with a raging fever? Do you need to go see Rowena for a check-up, followed by a script to go home and rest for…what…the next several months?”

“Ha. Ha. Ha.” Dean wasn’t laughing. For a second he considered acting on Charlie’s suggestion. But, as ever, the need for credits won out. He was going to have to face Novak sometime or other, it might as well happen sooner rather than later. Sooner didn’t have to be right that minute though, did it?

Dean dragged his feet back over the quad to the Fleet Support. He may or may not have stopped by the canteen to buy a slice, or several, of cherry pie on the way.

“Nut up, Winchester. Stop behaving like a wuss and get it over with. What’s the worst that Novak can do on his first day in charge? Fire you for his dumbass inability to make a noise or stay a decent distance away from folks?” Dean muttered out loud, as he waited for the elevator to arrive.

“I believe I already apologised for my error.”

Dean almost dropped the pie. Fuck! He turned around in slow motion. Someone tell him this is all a nightmare, please!

“Lt Commander Novak?” Dean’s question came out in a manly tone. It did! He totally didn’t squeak!

“The very same,” Novak said dryly. “You are?”

“Winchester. Dean Winchester.”

Was it too late to take the stairs? Ok, so the spares and maintenance office was on the 10th floor. It was doable…if he took a couple of breaks on the way. It had to be better than being stuck in an elevator car with Novak, right?

“Winchester?” Novak rolled the word on his tongue. “Winchester? If I’m not mistaken, you are the team member Col Adler nominated to help me find my feet around here.”

No, he wasn’t mistaken. Better take the bull by the horns and play the role Adler had thrust upon him.

“I am. Let me know when you need the low-down on how the section runs and who’s who…” Dean trailed off. That hadn’t been there earlier, had it? A bead of cold sweat trickled down Dean’s spine. Thank the Gods who clearly hated Dean that Novak hadn’t been carrying that sword in the kitchen. Don’t stare. Don’t stare he scolded himself.

The elevator finally arrived, giving Dean a temporary reprieve. Wanting to redeem himself in his new boss’s eyes, Dean put a hand over the doors until everyone who had been waiting was in the elevator. He did the same when they reached the 10th floor.

“After you, sir.”

“Thank you, Dean. I have a meeting with the other section heads for the next hour. Please come to my office at 11.00 and we’ll begin.”

“Yes, sir.”

Novak turned to head towards the bank of meeting rooms. Dean noticed that Novak let the sword tap on the ground every few steps instead of keeping at mid-thigh level. Wasn’t Dean’s sword. Novak could do what he liked with it. It wasn’t Dean’s business to worry about whether Novak ruined his possessions.

“Oh, and Dean,” Novak called over his shoulder, “don’t be late. I can’t abide lateness.”

Yeah, Dean was totally screwed.

********************************

At 10.50 the alarm Dean had set on his terminal went off.

Charlie and Jack poked their heads up at the sound. They both grinned at Dean.

“Don’t say a word,” he growled pointing a finger at each of them in turn. “No prizes for guessing where I’m headed. Don’t bother sending a search party for me if I’m not back by lunch. My body will no doubt have already been sent for processing.”

Jack opened his mouth to say something. He hadn’t got one word out before Charlie clamped her hand over it.

“Have fun! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do if the new boss had been that hot lawyer chick!”

“I don’t understand, Charlie. Why would one of the judicial officers be assigned to…”

“She’s teasing me, Jack. Go back to whatever requisition you were entering and don’t worry about it.”

Flipping Charlie the bird, and shaking his head at Jack’s never-ending innocence, Dean left for Novak’s office. What new level of 'foot in mouth syndrome' could he reach for their first official meeting, given how atrociously the two accidental ones had gone in the last three hours?

Dean went to knock on Novak’s door until he spotted that Novak was on his communicator. He waited, wiping his palms on his pants and shifting his weight from foot to foot. Hopefully, he was in the Lt Commander's sight, while Novak finished his call. That way if Novak overran, he would know that Dean had been punctual.

“Come on in, Dean,” Novak called placing his hand over the microphone on his communicator. He waved at the seats on the other side of his desk.

Dean perched on the edge of the chair nearest the door. He was uneasy about listening in to Novak’s conversation but assured himself that if it had been confidential, Novak wouldn’t have let him in.

“Got to go, Gabe. I know. I will…yes…yes…very well. I promise, as soon as I am able, I will see to it.”

Novak ended the conversation. He chucked the communicator on top of a stack of files. Sitting back in his chair, he crossed one ankle over the other knee and folded his hands in his lap.

Dean shuffled backward, sitting stiffly in his chair. He wasn’t about to annoy the new boss further for slouching, or not appearing to be paying attention.

“Relax, Dean. I don’t bite…well not in the office anyway. You’re a civilian. You don’t need to stand on military ceremony with me.”

“Thank, you Lt Comm…” Did his boss just flirt with him? I don’t bite in the office? Like, he would bite…Dean…if they were somewhere else?

“Castiel. Please call me Castiel.”

Dean tried hard not to ogle Cas’s lips while he spoke. If it wasn’t his lips though, it was the sweep of the broad shoulders down to a slim waist that drew Dean’s attention. Of course, Dean was so totally not drowning in the oceans of Novak’s eyes. Truthfully, he was as much a goner for his new boss’s looks as Charlie had been for the lawyer’s. Would somebody please come and kill him now?

“Dean?”

“Huh? Sorry. What was that?”

The arch of Cas’s eyebrow equalled Bobby’s scowl. Dread Brow. That was what Dean was going to name that look.

“I asked about the section’s team structure.”

“Oh, right,” Dean replied relieved Cas’s question was easily answered. “Two shifts working 9 -hour days weekdays. We have an on-call rota at weekends and out of hours.” Why was he asking stuff like this? Surely, that kind of information would have been in the briefing pack for the post? What if it was a test?

“Sasha is team leader for Bravo shift. The post is open for Alpha shift?”

“Correct.”

“Good. Consider yourself, temporarily promoted to the position.”

Dean did a double-take. “Excuse me, Cas…um, I mean…Castiel. But did you say you wanted me to lead Alpha shift?”

Cas beamed back at him, clearly pleased with his choice.

“Dude…err, sorry, sir…um…Cas…stiel, but do you think that’s a wise choice? I’m not exactly the poster child for the civil service.” And, Dean added silently, one of Adler’s least favorite people in the known universe.

Cas’s grin stayed in place. He leaned forward and stage whispered, “I know. That is one of the reasons I chose you.”

Dean was confused. Even more so when Cas winked at him.

“Don’t think that I haven’t seen your disciplinary record, Dean. I have. It makes for…interesting reading. I have also taken the liberty of speaking with a few people about all the members of this section who would be eligible for that position. Enough people speak highly enough of you to make me question how true the image of you from your disciplinary report is.”

Dean couldn’t stop himself from doing a goldfish impression.

“You have some friends in this department and other departments within the Ministry. They paint quite a different picture. One of a loyal and committed man whose heart is in the right place. It is more often how you go about solving problems and getting things done that gets you into trouble, not that you are a troublemaker by nature.”

“Wow, thanks. I think?” Dean squirmed in his seat. He was too used to being called an idiot or being chewed out for something that may or may not have been his fault — directly or indirectly. Receiving a compliment made him uncomfortable.

“So, Dean, is that a yes or a no to taking up the shift leader post?”

“Yes. Yes. Sure, I’ll do it.” Where the heck had that come from? The last thing Dean wanted was more responsibility. Cas had a way about him that drew out of Dean this untapped pride in himself and a desire to do more than goofing around with Charlie. All this from less than an hour in the guy’s presence. Dean was not going to freak out about. Well, not until he got back to the safety of his apartment where no-one could see him.

“Good. Good. Thank you. Now, I fear I may have you at a disadvantage. I know plenty about you, however, you know nothing about me apart from my rather rusty people skills, and my talent for sneaking up on people without them hearing me approach.”

“Par for the course, I guess. Bosses always get the dirt on their team first.”

“I assure you,” Cas declared, “there is dirt to be found on everyone if you’re inclined to look hard enough — even Colonel Adler.”

Of that fact, Dean needed no convincing. Although, a hefty dose of self-preservation told him not to openly agree with Cas.

“What is the skinny on you then, Castiel?”

“Career aviator with the Chiran fleet. Spent the last five years out flying Seraphs on reconnaissance missions in the neutral zones, until war kicked off over Aklaan. Then, obviously, my squadron became more about air to air interception and dogfights. Until…” Castiel stopped speaking. He uncrossed his legs and reached behind him for the sword which was leaning against the office wall. “…until I met my match and this little beauty here became a necessity.”

Dean gulped. He’d not once stopped to think that since war broke out with the Dumrazi Empire, the flyboys and girls were putting their lives on the line as much as the infantrymen. The evidence was right in front of him. The sword was not a sword, it’s a walking stick made to look like an ancient Chiran ceremonial sword.

Quickly kicking his brain into gear, Dean asked, “Are you, not to be too indelicate about it, permanently deskbound?”

Without hesitation, Cas replied, “Maybe not permanently, but for the time being yes. There is too much at stake with the war for me to be lazing about waiting for the doctors to do a full reconstruction on my leg. They’ve patched me up well enough that all I need is a little help from the walking stick from time to time, especially if I’m tired or need to move around a lot in a day.”

Dean understood what Cas was getting at. He wasn’t going to push for the gory details. If Cas had wanted to share how he got injured, he would have. Now that he knew what Cas had gone through for the Alliance, Dean had to accept that he was just as bad as any of the narrow-minded assholes he hated for their treatment of others. He was embarrassed that he had judged a genuine war hero the way he first judged Cas. Dean wasn’t sure he would have jumped into a desk job rather than spend the time being fixed up so that he could fly again.

“You’d rather sit here with us than take the time to heal fully? Won’t that make it worse…the full reconstruction?”

Cas shrugged. “It is a sacrifice I’m willing to make if I can do my bit to stave off the Empire’s advance from here.”

Dean shuffled in his seat, humbled by the way Cas was shaking off his accident. “Wow…that’s err…I mean…Shit, Castiel…I can’t think of many people who’d do that. I had all you flyboys pegged for being the ‘no guts, no glory’ types. Never thought of this boring-ass job as being that important to the war effort.”

“It is, Dean. It is. Without what goes on here, our fighting fleets wouldn’t last again the Dumrazi.”

Dean couldn’t place the expression that flashed across Cas’s features. His mouth opened again without engaging his brain. “I’ll be sure to keep Alpha shift on our A-game then, Cas…err, sorry…Castiel.” How did that happen again? Did Cas have supernatural powers over people? No, the truth was simpler than that. For all the cocky, couldn’t care less front Dean showed the world, Dean did care. Especially when it came to people he loved and admired. In this one short meeting, Castiel had joined that elite group.

Dean had no idea what face he was pulling. Whatever it was, it had Cas smiling reassuringly at him and reaching a hand across the desk towards Dean.

Almost as soon as he’d held his hand out, Cas retracted it. Looking disconcerted, no doubt about that weird interchange between them, Castiel changed the conversation. “How about we gather the rest of Alpha shift and get some lunch. Make sure one of you remains contactable by the fleet for emergencies.”

Dean got up to leave. He wanted to let the rest of the team know Cas wasn’t the giant dickbag they’d all assumed first thing before they went for lunch. And, maybe, take some time to freak out that it was him who was the great big bag of dicks. It stung more that Castiel was not only gracious enough not mention their previous encounters, including the whisky he must have got a whiff of from Dean's coffee mug, but had still offered Dean the promotion.

“Ah, Dean. Before you go. What…um…this may be presumptuous…um…but are you doing anything this evening after work?”

Stunned at the question, Dean shot Cas a quizzical look. After the conversation they’d just had, was Cas punking him? He couldn’t mean what Dean thought he meant, could he? Cas had been giving off the right vibes, but he was an officer in the Chiran Fleet and Dean’s boss. While they weren’t forbidden, office relationships were frowned upon in the Ministry. Not to mention that a relationship would be illegal if Dean had been a member of the fleet. Then again, Cas didn’t conform to any of the officer stereotypes Dean knew. Perhaps…perhaps…no. Dean decided getting his hopes up that this was anything more than a continuation of his orientation duties was a recipe for disaster.

“I understand if you’re busy,” Cas mumbled. “It was quite forward of me to ask. Only it’s such a long time since I lived in Lenota City that I’ve no idea where the best places are off campus to eat or go for a drink. I…I…was rather hoping that you would do me the favour of…um starting me off in the right direction.” Cas squared off the pile of files that were already in perfect alignment. “My treat, of course.”

The total loser that he was, Dean had nothing planned. Pizza and watching whatever took his fancy in his underwear were as far as he’d got in planning his night.

“Sure. I’d be delighted. You staying at one of the officer’s quarters blocks?”

Cas nodded, picking his communicator up watching himself turn it over in his hands while he avoided Dean’s gaze.

“How about I pick you up from there at 7.00 and we’ll hit the town.” Dean studied Cas for any sign that he was reading the signals correctly. He got nothing. Asking Dean about his plans, Cas had the air of a bashful teenager asking his first crush out. As soon as Dean answered, the self-assured officer mask slipped back into place.

Dean had a sneaking suspicion that the potted history Cas had given left out more than it told Dean. The continual flip-flopping between Cas the real man and Cas the Lt Commander didn’t help Dean work out if the guy was flirting with him or not. To be sure, whatever Cas’s motives, there was more to him than he’d revealed to Dean so far. Dean was counting on the invitation to reacquaint Cas with Lenota to give him a glimpse at what else there was to Castiel Novak.

“Sounds good.” Castiel’s tone was friendly, but it was clear that he was done with the conversation.

As he made his way back to his desk Dean marvelled at his day. It had started out as a nightmare from which he couldn’t wake up. But that had all turned around after his meeting with Cas. If Dean was lucky, it could end up being the best day ever!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for taking the time to read. If you liked it, please hit the kudos button or drop me a comment. I love hearing from the people that read my fics. It makes my day a little brighter.


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